Fatal Pursuit (The Aegis Series) (4 page)

The man’s eyes narrowed as if he were thinking. “I not sure. I check.” He turned into the back room. Muffled voices echoed, but Marley couldn’t make out the words. Moments later, the man returned and said, “US military, right?”

You could take a guy out of the army, but you couldn’t change the way he carried himself. The clerk had obviously met his fair share of soldiers and recognized Ronan’s type. “Yes.”

“He register this morning. Asked about cantina.” The man pointed toward the open doors that led out to the street. “Check outside.”

Marley palmed the key on the desk. Of course Ronan had found a bar. She could always count on him to find the worst dive bar in the area.

“Gracias,”
she said as she turned for the stairs that led to the rooms. “I appreciate your help.”

The room was nothing special. A double bed with a lime-green comforter, scuffed nightstand and side chair, and pink stucco walls. A freeway motel in the States, but down here, probably high-end luxury. After dropping her gear on the bed, she freshened up, grabbed her key and some cash, and headed out to find Ronan.

The first three cantinas were busts. Too nice, too clean, and filled with people who were way too normal. The minute she walked up to the fourth, though, she knew she’d hit the jackpot.

The tiny cantina sat on a side street off the beaten path. Litter was pushed up along the sidewalk outside, heavy smoke seeped from the open door, and raucous laughter echoed from inside. As she stepped through the doorway and paused to let her eyes adjust to the lack of light, she heard Jake’s voice in the back of her head telling her she was being supremely stupid by not only traveling to Colombia alone, but walking into a place like this by herself. But she ignored it. Just as she’d ignored every other time her conscience had taken on Jake’s voice as she’d been planning and executing this trip.

Conversation died down the minute she stepped into the room, and every patron turned to look her way. A trio of hardened, fifty-something Latino men sat at a small table. Two soldiers decked out in military green from head to toe with automatic weapons slung over their backs were bellied up to the bar. A kid who looked no more than twelve moved around behind the counter filling drinks.

There wasn’t a single female in the room. And the way every man stared at her as if she were fresh meat made the hairs on her neck stand straight with both fear and doubt.

A voice cleared to her left. Marley glanced in that direction, then exhaled a long breath when she saw the figure sitting in the shadows, his hand wrapped around a glass on the table, his bright-blue eyes narrowed on her.

The fear slid to the wayside. She ignored the attention from the other men in the bar, headed toward the corner, then stopped in front of his table. “Couldn’t just pick a normal restaurant, could you?”

Ronan Hamilton lifted the whiskey in his hand and took a sip. Ice clinked in the inch of amber liquid as he set the glass back down. “Nope.”

Marley pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “When did you get here?”

He didn’t move from his position—kicked back in his seat, head tipped to the side, eyes sharp and assessing as he glanced toward the door. “Late last night.”

“That was fast.”

The kid behind the bar moved up on Marley’s right. He held a dishtowel in one hand, and an apron was tied around his waist. Startled, Marley looked up. This close she could see he was older than she’d originally thought, but not by much. And the fact he stood there without saying anything creeped her out.

She held up one finger.
“Uno cerveza.”

Ronan lifted his drink.
“Otra para. Y uno, mi amigo.”

The kid turned and left. In the silence, Ronan lifted his glass and threw back the rest of his drink. “I was in Cartagena when you called.”

“The call said Memphis.”

He shrugged. “I have my calls rerouted. Not smart to let too many people know where I am at any one time.”

Marley nodded. She knew the way he worked. Here one day, gone the next. What the clerk at the hotel had missed was the fact he was
former
military and spent most of his life flying under the radar.

She studied him across the table. A dark-blond beard covered his jaw. He’d added a new scar along the right side of his temple since the last time she’d seen him, but other than that he looked the same. Dressed in jeans, boots, and a khaki button-down that was rolled at his forearms and damp around the collar, it was easy to see he was still as big and muscular as always. Still hard and edgy from his travels. And his striking blue eyes were tinged with an element of danger she remembered from the first time they’d met. But though a rational thinking woman would be scared, or, at the very least, intimidated by him, Marley wasn’t. Because she knew he wasn’t at all what people thought. And the fact he’d dropped everything to rush here and help her only confirmed that belief.

“Guess I got lucky, then.”

The bartender set her beer and two glasses of whiskey on the table, then left.

Ronan huffed and reached for his new drink. “You’re on the edge of the jungle, sweetheart. Nothing lucky about that.”

Marley lifted her drink and took a long swallow. “I can hold my own, don’t worry about me.”

Ronan’s brow ticked up as he brought the glass to his lips. “I don’t doubt that. Does your father know you’re down here?”

Marley didn’t want to talk about Mason Addison, at least not with Ronan. She lowered her beer. “No, this doesn’t concern him.”

“What about that boss of yours? He know you’re getting ready to tromp through the jungle?”

Marley thought of Jake. He’d throw a complete hissy fit if he knew she’d not only come to Columbia, but taken his plane to do it, but she only mildly cared. If Jake fired her, so be it. It was probably time for her to move on anyway.

“No, and this doesn’t concern him either.” She folded her elbows on the table. “This is personal.”

Ronan took another sip of his drink and lowered the glass with a clink. “In my experience, personal can get you killed. Especially in a place like this.”

Marley hoped the hell not. She didn’t want to die for this. But she did owe Gray her help.

Ronan finally shifted in his seat and sat forward. “So tell me about this McKnight character. I never liked the look of the sonofabitch, but I want to know just what the hell your father did to the guy and why he’s down here. And then I want you to tell me how you’re involved.”

Marley tightened her fingers around the beer bottle. “You’re not going to like the answers.”

“Tough shit, missy. Start talking.”

Jake raked a hand through his hair and eyed the fifth and final hotel on his list across the dark street. If Marley wasn’t here, he wasn’t sure what his next move would be. She hadn’t responded to his calls, hadn’t checked in to any of the local hotels under her name, hadn’t used her credit card since she’d landed in Colombia, and she hadn’t made any calls from her cell. He knew she was still in Puerto Asis because he’d finally gotten a hold of Tony Hughes, the pilot who’d flown her to Columbia. Tony was currently hunkered down in a hotel near the airport awaiting Marley’s instructions, but he didn’t know where she’d gone, and at the moment, she wasn’t answering Tony’s calls either. Jake knew if Marley left the city before he found her, he’d wind up chasing her through the jungle, and right now, he did not have the patience to play her little game. Or to deal with the fallout.

He moved into the lobby, swiped his forearm over his sweaty brow, and stepped up to the reception desk. A portly Latino man emerged from the back room and lifted his hand.
“¡Buenas noches, señor! ¿Le puedo ayudar?”

Shit. Today was one of those days he really wished he hadn’t been flirting with Misty Swanson all through his high school Spanish class and had actually paid attention.
“Buenas noches. Habla Inglés?”

“Sí, sí.”

“Thank God,” Jake muttered. He pulled a photo from his pocket and held it up. “I’m looking for this woman. Have you seen her?”

“You are American?”

“Yes. She is as well. I just need to know if she’s been here.”

The man chewed on his lip while he studied the picture. “
Sí
, but she not here now.”

If Marley had been here, that was a start. Hopefully she’d be back. He slid the picture into his back pocket. “Is she staying here?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “We no want trouble.”

Jake held up a hand. “No trouble. I promise. She’s a friend. I was supposed to meet her but, silly her, she forgot to tell me the name of the hotel. I’ve been to every one in town. You’re my last stop.”

The man eyed him for several long seconds, then finally said, “I no idea where she went.”

So she was staying here. Relief filled his chest. He nodded toward the keys hanging at the man’s back. “Got any rooms left?”

“Sí.”
The man’s whole demeanor changed. He went from standoffish and suspicious to helpful in the span of a few seconds. “You have money?”

“Yes.” Jake pulled out pesos and set them on the counter. The hotel clerk quickly reached for a key from the wall behind him, handed Jake a registry book, and picked up his cash. “Second floor. Room twenty-two.”

“Gracias.”
Jake threw his pack over his shoulder, reached for the key, and moved to sit in the waiting area.

“You no go upstairs?” the man asked.

“No, I’m just gonna wait.”

The man threw up his hand and turned for the back room. “I no care if you wait, so long as you pay.”

Alone, Jake dropped his backpack on the floor and sat on the rattan couch. Five minutes passed before he checked his watch. It was close to ten p.m. No one had come in or out of the hotel since he’d arrived. He blew out a long breath, crossed his arms over his chest, and tapped his foot on the tile floor while he looked out the window toward the dark street.

Nothing was open except a few seedy bars. Marley was in a dangerous city, alone, at night. What on God’s green earth was she thinking? And where the hell was she at this hour?

Unable to sit still, Jake stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants, pushed to his feet, and paced the length of the small lobby. People passed by on the sidewalk outside the windows, but still no one turned into the hotel. His jaw clenched. He flicked the key in his pocket, raked a hand through his hair again, thought about texting Eve once more to find out if Marley had checked in at Aegis yet, then thought better of it. Eve had said she’d call the moment she heard from Marley, and, knowing how moody Eve could get, Jake knew if he kept bugging her she might not respond at all.

Another fifteen minutes passed. Jake stopped near a potted ficus tree in the corner of the room and decided enough was enough. Nothing good happened to a single woman alone in a city like this at night. Determined to find her, he turned toward the door but only made it one step before familiar feminine laughter sounded outside.

He stopped, looked up, then stilled when Marley stepped into the room wearing a fitted black tank that showed off her breasts and the curves at her waist, dark-green cargo pants, and a pair of hiking boots that looked as if they were brand-new.

Relief immediately swept through him—that she was alive, that she wasn’t hurt. Her blonde hair hung in waves past her shoulder, and a wide smile split her face, warming his insides. Then she turned to glance up at a tall, buff blond guy dressed all in black stepping into the lobby at her back, and Jake’s relief morphed to confusion, then to flat-out disbelief.

“That is not even possible,” Marley said over her shoulder as she crossed the lobby and headed for the front desk. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“No lie,” the guy said as he followed her. “The kid was fifteen, sixteen tops.”

Jake gave his head a swift shake, sure he was seeing things. But no, she was still there, laughing and flirting with some random guy as if running off to a dangerous country in South America was no big deal.

She’d come all the way down here to have an affair? To hook up with this loser? And she’d used his plane to do it?

Marley laughed again. Shuffling sounded from the back room, then the manager emerged and grinned. “Welcome back,
señ
orita
.”

“Thank you. Room twenty-five, please.”

The manager reached for a key at his back and handed it to her.
“Buenas noches.”

“Buenas noches,”
Marley repeated with a smile. She turned once more to the blond man behind her. “Fifteen, huh? If he’d been older, you’d have been in serious trou—”

Her gaze landed on Jake, still standing near the potted ficus, and the words died on her lips.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, shock filling her light-blue eyes.
“You followed me?”

“
You’re right, I followed you.” Jerked out of his trance by Marley’s words, Jake stepped out from behind the potted plant and leveled her with a hard look. “You stole my damn jet.”

“I—” Marley’s mouth snapped closed. “I didn’t steal anything. I
borrowed
. But I have to say, I’m honestly surprised you even noticed.”

She’d been drinking. Those pretty blue eyes of hers were slightly glossy, and her cheeks were flushed a soft shade of pink. He didn’t like the idea of her getting drunk down here with some guy she’d just picked up in a sleazy bar. Didn’t like the idea of her here, period.

She turned for the stairs, but Jake stepped in her path, preventing her from escaping to her room. “What exactly does that mean?”

She drew to an abrupt stop and swayed just a touch, confirming—oh yeah—she was tipsy if not already drunk. “It means nothing. Take your plane and leave. I don’t need it anymore.”

She tried to step around him, but he moved into her path once more. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

Her eyes widened. “News flash, Ryder. This isn’t the office. I don’t have to tell you anything. If you want to fire me for borrowing your dumb plane, then do it. I don’t care. I’m on vacation.”

One thing registered. That she was still mad. But he couldn’t tell if it was because he’d changed that op or if there was more going on.

She shoved her shoulder hard against his to get by. Twisting after her, Jake caught her by the wrist and tugged her back. “Marley, wait a min—”

“Whoa. Dude.” The big blond guy who’d followed her into the lobby stepped between them and placed a large hand against Jake’s chest. “Time for you to take a breather and back off, buddy.”

Jake shifted his gaze from Marley to the oaf she’d picked up. His face was vaguely familiar, but Jake couldn’t figure out how he knew the guy. And right now he was too frustrated to try to remember. “And you need to take your hand off me right this second before you lose it.”

The blond guy’s piercing blue eyes narrowed, but he didn’t drop his hand. Several tense seconds passed, and without even looking, Jake knew the hotel manager was standing in the doorway to the back room, all but quaking in his boots.

“Oh for God’s sake, Jake.” Marley yanked her hand from his grip. “Stop being a bully.” She looked toward the blond. “Ronan, I’m tired. Take me up to the room?”

She stepped back, swaying again with the movement. Jake tensed to catch her if she fell, but the blond—Ronan—reached his free hand out and captured Marley by the arm before she went down, never once looking her way. And as Jake watched the guy’s big hand slide along her bare arm and the way she leaned into his touch, another wave of utter disbelief rushed through him.

She was drunk and upset, and she was going upstairs with this guy. Right in front of him, as if that too were no big deal.

Marley moved away from Ronan and weaved her way toward the stairs. Ronan dropped his hand from Jake’s chest, but he didn’t immediately step back. Instead his eyes hardened, and a muscle in his jaw ticked. That familiarity flashed in Jake’s mind again. He knew this guy. Not personally, but he knew that face. And the name—Ronan—there was something about it . . .

The guy finally stepped back. “Way to piss her off. Thanks, man.”

He turned and followed Marley. And completely dumbfounded, all Jake could do was look after them and say, “Marley, what the hell?”

With one hand on the banister, she hesitated on the third step and glanced over her shoulder. “I’m not in the mood to deal with you right now, Ryder. If you’re here in the morning, fine. If not, have a nice life.”

The two disappeared up the stairs. Alone, Jake stood where he was, staring after them.

Have a nice life? After all their years working together, that was all she had to say to him?

The hotel manager cleared his throat. Jake glanced in that direction. The man frowned, shook his head as if Jake were a complete idiot, then disappeared into the back room.

Jake looked back at the empty stairs. Have a nice life? She’d seriously said that, as if he were nothing but an acquaintance?
Have a nice life?
As if they hadn’t spent every day of the last three and a half years together? Oh, fuck that.

His vision turned red. Every muscle in his body urged him to go up to her room and set her straight. He took one step toward the stairs, then heard Eve’s voice in the back of his head, yelling,
“Are you freakin’ losing it?”

He stopped, held up his hands, realized his palms were sweaty and his fingers were shaking. He closed his hands into fists. Eve was right. He was crossing the line. If Marley wanted to hook up with some random loser, what did he care?

He didn’t. That was the point. He’d only come down here for his plane.

He moved back for his pack, tossed it over his shoulder, then stepped out of the hotel and onto the street. It was still hot and muggy as hell, but at least out here he could breathe. He drew air deep into his lungs, blew it out. Did it again until the red faded from his vision and he could see straight.

Salsa music spilled out of a bar across the street. Determined to get Marley Addison out of his head for good, he crossed the street, moved through the open archways that led into the cantina, found a spot at the bar, and dropped his bag at his feet.

The bartender, a twenty-something Colombian man with dreadlocks down to his shoulders, looked Jake’s way from the end of the bar and lifted his chin. “You want something,
amigo
?”

English. Good. Jake wasn’t in the mood to struggle through his limited Spanish. “Yeah, tequila.”

The bartender chuckled, tossed a rag on the bar, reached for a bottle from the counter behind him, then moved Jake’s way. “Here.” He poured clear liquid into a shot glass and handed it to Jake. “You like this better. Trust me.”

Jake eyed the bottle. “That’s not tequila.”

“It’s guaro. Better than tequila. Colombian specialty.” He nodded toward the drink in Jake’s hand. “You like.”

Screw it. As long as it was strong, Jake didn’t care what the hell he was drinking.

He tossed the shot back. The taste of licorice splashed across his tongue. Then a burn like acid shot down his esophagus and ripped through his chest before settling like a rock in his stomach.

He coughed. Lowered the glass. Coughed again and gasped for a breath.

The bartender and the patrons sidled up to the bar around him burst out laughing. “That’s firewater,” the bartender said. “Good stuff, hey,
amigo
?”

He refilled Jake’s glass, poured himself a shot, and tossed it back as if it were nothing. “Sure to cure anything that fucks with you.”

Jake breathed deep and eyed the bottle in the bartender’s hand.
Aguardiente
was written in cursive across the front. Several other people at the bar held up their empty shot glasses. The bartender made his way down the wooden surface, refilling shots with the nasty anise-tasting liquor as if it were liquid candy.

Laughter echoed around him. Salsa music floated in the air. The burn faded from his chest, and a growing warmth radiated outward from his belly. He glanced down at the full shot glass in his hand, already feeling the effects of the alcohol. The bartender set a beer bottle in front of him.

“To chase,” the bartender said. “Drink up,
amigo
. You look like you need it.”

Jake’s mind flashed to Marley. Holed up across the street in the hotel with that loser. He tossed back the second shot, reached for his beer, and downed half of it to ease the burn.

What did he care if she fucked the guy? She was his employee, not his girlfriend. He didn’t have time for a girlfriend. Didn’t need the trouble of a girlfriend. And he’d sure as hell never pick Marley—headstrong and snarky as hell—to fill that role even if he
was
in the market for one.

He finished his beer, pulled cash from his pocket, then signaled the bartender and paid his bill.

The bartender held up the bottle of guaro. “Sure you don’t want another,
amigo
? You missin’ out on a good time.”

Jake eyed the clear liquid, considered for a second the oblivion he knew the bottle held, then shook his head. “No. Thanks. I’ve got a flight to catch.”

He grabbed his pack and moved around tables toward the bar’s exit. Across the street, the dumb oaf who’d taken Marley upstairs stepped out on the sidewalk, rolled his shoulders as he looked up and down the dark road, then turned to his right.

Jake glanced at his watch, then to the blond dude heading away from the hotel. Twenty minutes. The loser had spent all of twenty minutes up there in her room. Oh yeah, he was a real catch. He’d gotten her wasted, taken advantage of her, then split.

Jake didn’t think twice. He hefted the pack over his shoulder and followed. Ronan . . . Ronan . . . He knew that name. As he tailed the asshole, his brain skipped over the name, then finally made the connection.

Motherfucker.
She’d hooked up with Ronan Hamilton?

Jake didn’t know the former DELTA soldier personally, but he knew enough. A few of the guys Jake had served with had worked with Hamilton in the past. And Hamilton’s reputation as a lone wolf was legendary. As was the reason he’d been dishonorably discharged from the military.

Hamilton stopped two blocks down the dark street and turned in the middle of the sidewalk. “Dude, whatever your problem is, I don’t want it.”

Jake dropped his bag on the ground, stepped over it, and advanced on Hamilton. “You’re my problem. Stay away from her.”

“Whoa.” Hamilton held up both hands. “You’ve got the wrong idea, man.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’ve got the right one.” Jake moved even closer, every muscle in his body bunched and ready for a fight. “She’s not a toy for you to use and lose.”

Hamilton dropped his hands to his hips, shook his head, and chuckled. “You’ve seriously got this all messed up. She and I are—”

“I know exactly what you are, Hamilton.” Jake shoved his finger into the guy’s chest. “And I know what you like to do to unsuspecting women.”

Hamilton’s eyes turned hard and icy, and all humor fled his features. His muscles tensed, and his jaw turned to steel beneath his scruffy beard. “You don’t know shit, Ryder. And you need to back the fuck off, right this second.”

So he knew who Jake was. Marley had probably told him, not that Jake cared. Jake searched the other man’s features. Fury simmered beneath the cool blue eyes. A fury he sensed Hamilton only just held back.

Jake dropped his hand, but he didn’t step away. “Leave.”

“She asked for my help. I didn’t volunteer.”

“Well, she doesn’t need you anymore now that I’m here, does she?”

“You’re gonna stay? After that little show you put on in the hotel?” He shook his head. “Something tells me you’re the last person she wants around.”

“I’ll stay.”
Would he?
Shit, yeah, he would
.
There was no way he was leaving Marley alone in this country now. “Marley will just have to deal with me.”

Hamilton’s gaze searched Jake’s face. Long, tense seconds passed before he finally shrugged. “Fine. No skin off my nose. Saves me a headache anyway. She’s supposed to meet me tomorrow morning for breakfast at nine in the hotel restaurant. I’ll split, but know this, Ryder. If you leave her here . . . If I find out you bailed on her, I will find you. And I will hurt you. That’s a promise. If you know who I am, then you know I always keep my promises.”

Hamilton turned and headed back down the street, disappearing into the darkness without another word. And alone, Jake looked back toward Marley’s hotel and wondered just what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He still had no idea what she was doing down here, but now more than ever he was determined to find out.

Marley braced her hands on the edge of the sink in her hotel bathroom and hung her head, praying the throbbing against her skull would slow its relentless pounding. She couldn’t drink with Ronan. She’d been stupid to try to keep up. The man had a gut of steel. Which went right along with his heart of stone.